Donald Sanders

Happy Boob…er…Valentine’s Day!

Valentine’s Day.

The love day.

It’s a day to celebrate all the love you have for others, so we all go out and buy those little cards or a box of chocolate and pass them out to those we love or to those we feel deserve them. It’s one of those days that I want to remember, but I always forget until it’s too late and my wife has already thought of it first.. That’s okay — she is my Valentine lover anyway.

I always send little text messages to those women who are important in my life and there are many, many women who have played a part in making me the man that I am today. Just to list a few — there is Therese of course, Jan, Jen, Tanya, Jody, Kim, Eileen, Nancy, Nancy, Chris, Patty, Patty, Anna, Libby, Amy, Melanie, Penny P, Beth F, Leslie B, Debra, Madge, Gigi, Ella, Tammy W, Josie, Sarah, Chris N, Judy H, Connie, Diane, Katie, Kellie, and of course, my Mom. Then there are women who are pleasing to the eye like Silvan, Beth, Yvonne, Raena, Morgan, Jessica, Menetta, Nicole and Vicki.

Oh, we don’t want to forget Sister Conchadda, my first love. She gave me my first private room. It was a closet and kind of small but there was a lot of light that came in under the locked door. I could see feet every time someone walked down the hall. She taught me that women are smarter than men because when she found spinach in the pocket of some trousers in a mountain of laundry she knew it was mine and made me come and eat it.

There ya go, and none of you have the right to complain because all of you have played a part in making me into what I am today, right? You have all pushed and prodded me to modify my behavior like a molded bowl of Jell-O. Now I’m just like a computer program that takes out the garbage and mows the grass. Yes Ma’am, no Ma’am! You tell me when to take off my boots so I don’t track mud into the house and when I stink like a man, I am told to wash it off.

You don’t want me to eat doughnuts, frozen pizza, and potato chips but you make me eat a hand full of pills every morning and every evening. What the Hell? Why do women always want me to do the right thing when all I want to do is the wrong thing? I want to step in the mud and drag it in the house. I want to clutter up the yard with tools and leave the lawn mower where I can easily find it. If it’s in the way, walk around it like I do.

When we go somewhere, I want to leave when I’m ready, not when you’re ready. I like my hair messed up! I don’t want to use “quotation marks.” Women are so suspicious! When my friends John, Terry and I are out playing, we’re not doing anything wrong, we just are throwing rocks into the creek, so quit worrying about us. We know that you all love us but geeze, not all the time! We don’t need that much love, do we?

Valentine’s Day can be dreadful for men sometimes. We don’t need all that lovie-dovie stuff. Don’t you know by now that if we don’t throw rocks at you then we love you? That’s pretty simple. Imagine how simple life would be without Valentine’s Day. That would mean no guilt because we forgot about it. Without women molding us men we would still be able to hunt and gather and women could lay around in bear skins and there would be no bras! Okay, so if we should look at your boobs, no foul, no bad, no harm done. It’s just a quick glance. That’s all.

As a matter of fact, most men wish that Valentine’s Day could be Bare Boob Day! Wouldn’t that be grand? Just think of the cool text messages you would get! It would be like, “Hey Sally, nice set of cha chas!” Anyway, that was just a thought. So now I guess you know that a lot of you are not going to get a text message from me because I forgot about Valentine’s Day again and now it’s too late to send them without my appearing to be a fool.